


Something To Believe In

by Scarabsi



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarabsi/pseuds/Scarabsi
Summary: “You! In the grey! Is that appropriate attire for an event that celebrates the LGBT community?”





	Something To Believe In

**Author's Note:**

> A short from Tumblr that I'm overly proud of. Loosely based on the song Something To Believe In from the Newsies soundtrack. Thanks to beatlemaniacinthetardis for the prompt!

He only went to the parade because Joly is big into pride and Musichetta is big into rubbing her happiness in closed-minded people’s faces. He kept to the side, dressed rather petulantly in shades of grey that didn’t represent him for fear of being seen in colour. Bossuet rolled his eyes at him for drinking straight people’s beer, but honestly it was just the cheapest and the bad flavor suited how well he wanted to treat himself right now.

He had the bottle to his mouth, bottoms up, when he caught eyes with the sun, Helios driving his chariot in a rainbow toga.

He should have looked away, but he was so helpless to stop he would have gone blind first.

The rainbow god took in his greys and the brand of his beer and scowled, and then Grantaire realized he was a human, that he was real.

He was a real flesh and blood human who had been born at some point, and will die someday, and he had a megaphone in his hand that he aimed toward Grantaire. “You! In the grey! Is that appropriate attire for an event that celebrates the LGBT community?”

Grantaire will lie awake for weeks to come thinking about his first impression being ‘you, in the grey,’ forever. He regretted so many things, but he especially regretted opening his mouth. “Who are you to say what’s appropriate? What if I want to show my Ally support?”

The golden man jumped down from his friend’s shoulders -- how delusional of Grantaire to have thought he were flying in a chariot -- and had a grip around Grantaire’s hand on the bottle in no time flat. Confrontational. “I understand the urge for the gesture, but straight Ally pride does nothing to help the LGBT community and takes focus away from people celebrating marginalized identities.” A sneer to the beer bottle, then, “You can take your allyship to the rest of the world, it’s not welcome here.”

Grantaire’s head was spinning, drunker than he’s ever been on the few sips of beer he’s had. “I’m bisexual,” he blurted.

The golden man seemed thrown by this, five different expressions passing through his face at once. “I’m Enjolras,” he said haltingly. “I’m gay.”

“I’m Grantaire and I’m bisexual,” Grantaire breathed. He was going crazy, he knew it.

Enjolras looked around him, still looking utterly lost in comparison to his certain confidence from before. “I-- you know, I’m certain Courfeyrac could lend you his scarf. If you wanted to join us.”

His friends would tease him within an inch of his life, and if his face showed up on Facebook his parents would disown him. He threw the beer back, drank the rest in a few swallows, and tossed it toward the nearest bin. “I’m in, Gay Enjolras. Let’s fill my pocket full of sunshine.”


End file.
